


An Ocean Blue

by Inane_Rational



Series: An Ocean Blue [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, M/M, Organized Crime, Prostitution, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-26
Updated: 2009-09-26
Packaged: 2017-10-23 13:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inane_Rational/pseuds/Inane_Rational
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His father's empire was falling. There's one last thing he needs to retrieve before leaving the country.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Ocean Blue

His father’s empire was falling apart. The man himself had called and told him to make a run for it. So one of the many exit strategies have been put into motion: a private plane out of the country, laying low on a tropical beach, or a mountain, or maybe even on a fucking meadow, in comfort. Uther had given him further instructions to grab as much as he could.

Arthur was packed and ready to go, foreseeing this conclusion long before his father ever did. His bank accounts were in order, all incriminating documents were destroyed, and his own exit strategy was reviewed in his head several times. Now there was only one thing Arthur wanted to grab before he fled the country.

He called for the car as he grabbed a black key from his drawer, the number five-zero-six etched into the metal. It was cold in his palm, and when he grasped it in a fist, the ridges dug into his skin. All he had was one thing left. As of now, escaping the authorities was number two on the list of priorities. The key was pocketed into his trousers, before he shrugged on his suit jacket. He straightened his tie in the mirror, checked his gun, and smoothed his hair before leaving his pent house, locking the door behind him. The instruction about looking his best was habitual, instilled by his father at a young age, and for all intents and purposes made today appear as a normal business day.

No one was in the hallway or the elevator as he went down to the parking garage, like he had deduced for one seventeen in the afternoon. The silver Mercedes was right across from the elevator doors, engine running, and the chauffeur waiting. Arthur was constantly driven around in that car: from function to function in elegant form. He’d miss it. He strode towards the vehicle; the chauffeur rolled down his tinted window, and extended a set of car keys dangling from his fingers.

“You know the plan,” Arthur affirmed as the keys were dropped into his waiting hand. The chauffeur was well aware of the primary plan, acting as a decoy as Arthur drove his ‘own’ car. The Mercedes’ window was rolled up as the car headed for the exit of the parking garage. Arthur walked in the opposite direction to search for his car. The headlights lit up in succession when he opened the doors with the transmitter. He clicked the transmitter again, making sure he was looking at the right car. If there was a rush in Arthur’s steps, there was no one to see.

The ‘new car’ smell permeated his senses as he settled in the driver’s seat. He’d only driven this car once during a test drive two weeks ago. Today was going to be the last time he drove it. He would have gladly driven this car all the way to the destination, yet a massive body of water would prove to be a problem. He could imagine Merlin snipping at him for the possessive thoughts about a car that wasn‘t even his own. Arthur would chalk it down to jealousy, just to rile him.

|=||=||=||=||=||=||=||=||=||=||=||=||=|

The first time he saw Merlin, he was performing for the Velvet Room, being filled at both ends, while he was on his hands and knees. It was definitely an arousing sight. The more Arthur had watched the more enticing Merlin had become. His father was doing a routine check-up of his numerous dealings. Arthur, his eighteenth birthday a few weeks past, was tagging along to see the crime empire he’d inherit. The steel entrance lead to a posh bar: a repetition of black and silver chrome seemed to be the theme. Of course, the bar was a cover for the more lucrative business that took place beyond another set of doors; quite indiscreetly named the ‘VIP area.’

The change was immediate after going through another set of doors. The black and silver bled into a lusty red, and the sound-proofing was top-notchthe quiet was eerie, but the notion of privacy from the outer world was given to the clients. Arthur followed his father’s brisk steps, as the manager gave them the tour and reported about their profits, which had increased since the last fiscal term, blah, blah, and so on.

His father had told him to go look around while he dealt with business matters. Arthur didn’t mind, too interested in finding the viewing rooms the manager had mentioned, gesturing towards a set of white doors. (Of all the colours).

A jolt of shock coursed through him, and down towards his cock when he first opened one of the white doors. From afar he could see one pale, lithe body, was being worked between two muscled men. They sounds they made amplified by the room’s speakers. The room was maroon, though the darkness made it hard to tell. It was like a small theatre, as he walked down the steps, three rows of comfortable recliner chairs. All the chairs were far enough apart for privacy. The only source of light shone from the window, its curtains pulled to the side. Beyond the window was another room where the ‘performers’ gave a live pornographic show. He settled himself in the second row along the aisle.

The room on the other side of the glass looked like a regular room, albeit one with a strategically placed king-sized bed. It was so dull that it almost didn’t belong to the whore house’s decor of artfully constructed solid colours. But, if Arthur had to guess, it didn’t matter. The performers were what they paid to see. The two muscled men were evenly tan. Their skin cooked to a golden brown by the tanning booths that kept their ‘employees’ to customer satisfactionready for consumption and all that. (He hadn’t understood the manager’s point in disguising the _facts_ with sociable terms. As he saw it back then, a whore was a whore).

The one in the middle was different. He was almost skin and bones, though a small definition of muscle could be seen. The skin was pale white, like his sister’s porcelain doll. It made him look fragile, but he was being fucked hard from the way that bed creaked, so the fragility was an incorrect notion.

The guy working his mouth had finished, so he was able to make as much noise as he wanted (or needed). Arthur could see his face, and it didn’t lift the association of a doll from his mind. The guy, maybe even his age, had pale milky skin, ebony hair, blue eyes, and red lips from sucking off the other guy. He smirked, drawing on memories of being forced to watch Snow White with his little sister. Yet, a whore was no princess, and nothing about him and his father’s business was innocent. He requested Merlin for a three night stay at the first chance he could get, and used those days and nights well to his satisfaction.

|=||=||=||=||=||=||=||=||=||=||=||=||=|

Arthur sent an annoyed glance to the rearview mirror, one car looking too familiar. The decoy didn’t work as well as he thought, as this same car followed him for the past minutes upon turn, upon turn, upon turn. The black sedan was tailing him from one or two cars behind. The tail needed to be shaken off without alerting them that he knew. His cellphone began to ring, the sharp trills breaking the silence in the car and his mood. It rang for a good fifteen times before it stopped, and Arthur felt an edge of stress leave his shoulders.

No choice, the car needed to be ditched.

Looking around, Arthur assured himself that he could run to the brothel, maybe sprint. The area was familiar, and he remembered one business dinner he had in an Italian restaurant two years ago. When he found it, Arthur parked the car in front of the nearest meter, added a random amount of coins, and walked through the elegant doors in a calm manner. He took note of the interior design, seeing that it hadn’t changed, and asked the hostess for the same secluded seat for two. Usually, he would make a performance of sitting down and acting the part, but his plane was going to leave, and he _couldn’t_ go yet. He could find some other way of getting out, but he’d rather that the primary plan went through. The instant the hostess took him out of sight from the windows, Arthur whisked past her, past the table, through the kitchen, and out into the alleyway. Every rise of protest from the staff didn’t register past his ears, trying to think ahead and map his way within the alleyways as much as possible. Arthur made a run for it.

The buildings whipped past as he ran on automatic, trusting his instinct and the map in his head. By the time he found the steel doors of the bar, the muscles and bones in his legs burned, and he was heaving for air. He didn’t let it overtake him, he was finally here. Arthur rapped at the door expecting to be let in quickly, yet, he found the door resolutely closed. He gave two more polite raps, and seethed to find no answer. His fist pounded it, the clang echoing, the door shaking with the force of an earthquake. The fury was peaking, and was going to continue until someone opened it up, until someone who was _supposed to be at the fucking door **opened up!**_

The barman threw open the door, profusely apologising. Arthur merely checked him to the side, giving a face of detestation towards the man and his female companion, the smudge of lipstick on both of them. He could see out of the periphery of his vision, the man’s relief at not being cut down from the boss’s son. It reminded him that not many knew what was going on. He would need to phone some people, men that were loyal and needed to get away; not because he needed people to restart the empire as his own, but because their loyalty to him should be returned with equal strength.

Arthur had passed through the VIP entrance many times during the last five years he’d been first taken here, following his father’s footsteps, knowing everything he’d seen would belong to him in the future—or so he thought. The direction to Merlin’s room was instinctual as much as it was habit, walking these hallways once or twice a week when he could make the time.

The area encompassing the ‘employees’ rooms was lavish. There were polished cherry wood doors aligning along a hallway of dark red carpet, and white walls that had a glimmer of gold etchings curving throughout. The chandeliers, when they were on, flooded the hall with crystal light. There were five floors of this, twelve of their finest on each floor, and clients came in and out at various times after opening hours.

Merlin was on the top floor, number five-zero-six fitted in hematite on the door. The key fitted easily into the lock, warm as he jiggled it, trying to get the door open, used to the knob’s difficulty—something that was apparently Merlin‘s doing. The room was awash with various reds, somehow simple, and still kept its regal intent. The black doors for the closet and bathroom merged with the red, which couldn’t be said about the bed. It stood out the most: a swath of ocean blue fabric amongst all the dirty money that provided and cared for this establishment. Merlin was asleep on the bed, recuperating from the previous night’s activities.

Arthur didn’t waste time to watch and reminisce the time spent here with him. He didn’t anticipate having to run here, nor people who couldn’t do what they were told. He took off his suit jacket before gently lifting the blanket away, knowing Merlin would be naked underneath. He could feel the air cool the sweat sticking to his back, unlike the warmth he imagined Merlin would give. The jacket was placed around him in an effort to cover him up, before Arthur gently lifted him into his arms. Going back down didn’t prove to be an obstacle, considering how light his lover was. The manager investigating the earlier commotion didn’t do anything either, despite seeing Mr. Pendragon’s son carry one of the prostitutes out the door. The man stood shocked and flabbergasted as they left out the bar door. The last he could see of the manager was a face of illness: maybe scared of the reprimanding he believed he’ll receive, or the memory of Arthur killing a man in cold blood.

No one stood in the way of what a Pendragon believed to be theirs and got away with it.

It was true until now. Petty criminals and other crime lords were easier to handle, but the government officials were a different territory, especially when the laws got the right evidence to back it up. They were being run to the ground; all this wouldn’t exist when he came back. But he would bring it back. He was assured that they had nothing on him, but he wasn’t going to wait in a room being grilled to go against his father. Uther was shit, but he was still his father.

The change in Merlin’s breathing signalled his consciousness. He muffled his face into Arthur chest, turning away from the brightness of the sun. “Arthur?” Merlin rasped, squinting up at Arthur’s face. He was too busy trying to locate his driver to answer. Fifteen rings: lost the tails. Therefore, he would have arrived here.

“Sir!” Arthur turned to see his chauffeur, and almost didn’t go forward when he was expecting a Mercedes, and finding a limo instead. The old man had rushed to open the back door, and Arthur rushed towards it, placing Merlin in the seat before climbing over to get in. The door slammed behind him, the darkness inside the car calmed him.

“What’s going on?” Merlin was awake, the jacket loose on his shoulders, and baring his nudity to him. He reached to fix his jacket around Merlin’s shoulders, closing his view of pale skin before answering.

“I can no longer stay in the city.” The limo pitched forward in movement, and Arthur could finally feel himself fully relax. “It seems the authorities have enough to convict my father.”

“And you?”

“Nothing.” Arthur smiled at Merlin’s unmasked worry. He continued on nonchalantly, “at least nothing yet. Who knows what they’ll dig up.”

“So you’re going into hiding.” He looked at him, knowing Merlin was going to say something more as he fiddled with the jacket’s buttons. “And, you’re taking me with you?”

Arthur closed the jacket around Merlin once more, and dragged a thumb across his cheekbones. “Don’t be an idiot, Merlin.” To slowly find his arm full of the gangly man was expected, since he was used to Merlin’s forwardness. He was being kissed, closed mouth on the lips. The smile on Merlin’s face was beyond any that he’d seen before. Arthur’s lips had quirked on their own, before he wrapped a hand behind Merlin’s head and pulled him in for a gentler, deeper kiss.

|=||=||=||=||=||=||=||=||=||=||=||=||=|

“Thank you Gaius,” Arthur said to his chauffeur.

“No need to thank me, sir.” The old man smiled, before he sternly said, “take care of that boy, you hear.”

Arthur’s startled expression soon broke into a laugh. He would have to ask later how Merlin knew Gaius. The man was resourceful. Amongst his collection of cars, he didn’t think there would be a limo. They grasped each other on the shoulders, silently exchanging a farewell, and promises of meeting again. Merlin was waiting by the stairs to the plane, the jacket wrapped tightly around his frame as the wind dared to wrench it away.

“Get out of here,” Gaius said. Arthur nodded, giving one last pat on the shoulders, before he rushed to leave. He wrapped his arms around Merlin, both going up the steps into the plane to take off.


End file.
